


Thievery Does(n't) Pay

by ladyillusion



Series: Divergent Worlds [10]
Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Audio Format: MP3, Gen, Humor, One Shot, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyillusion/pseuds/ladyillusion
Summary: “What are you saying?” Kurama demanded.“That you can’t do it,” Hiei said smugly.Kurama’s eyes were narrowed as thin as a knife’s blade.“I can do it,” he said icily.





	Thievery Does(n't) Pay

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is available in audio form for those who would prefer to listen rather than read. Please note that this is a text to speech recording, which means that there may be some issues with it.
> 
> [Stream or download MP3 via Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/file/d/11VqEsDEnJLFKGCDq7WiysZGo1XMn6lbh/view?usp=sharing)

“That cart looks familiar…”

Hiei’s eyes were narrowed as he studied the potter’s cart that bumped along the rough forest road beneath him.

Beside him, looking far too comfortable for somebody sitting on a tree branch while wearing a dress, his friend Kurama frowned pensively down at the cart. It was driven by a black haired man in weather-beaten clothes. The horse drawing it plodded along at a sedate pace.

“I think it is the same one that came by last month,” Kurama said. “That is a shame. Our ruse likely won’t work for a second time.”

“Are you sure it’s the same one?” Hiei asked. “I thought the driver of the cart that came through last month had brown hair.”

“He could have dyed it,” Kurama pointed out. He plucked a stray leaf from the pale green fabric of his skirt.

Hiei eyed him sidelong. Hiei’s own clothes were much more practical than Kurama’s. He was wearing breeches and a long-sleeved shirt designed to help him blend in to the forest around them.

“Even if it is the same man, the ruse will probably still work,” Hiei suggested.

“Doubtful,” Kurama said, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Don’t be a coward, Kurama,” Hiei said snippily. “You could be waiting days for someone else suitable to come through here.”

That was true. Kurama had very specific requirements for his ruse. The victim had to be male and he had to be travelling alone. People rarely travelled this road alone as rumours had been circulating recently that bandits lived in the forest.

Hiei and Kurama weren’t concerned about the bandits. They _were_ the bandits.

Kurama fiddled with a lock of his long red hair. Unlike the dress, it wasn’t a part of his disguise. It was actually entirely natural.

Hiei kicked one worn boot out into the air impatiently. “You’re right,” he said. “If that is the same man, then you probably can’t fool him for a second time.”

Emerald eyes turned on Hiei with a sharp, offended look. Hiei hid a knowing smile by turning his face away from Kurama.

“What are you saying?” Kurama demanded.

“That you can’t do it,” Hiei said smugly.

Kurama’s eyes were narrowed as thin as a knife’s blade.

“I can do it,” he said icily.

“So do it,” Hiei told him. “Or not. I really don’t care.”

The soft sound of rustling fabric then the thud of shoes hitting the forest floor indicated to Hiei that Kurama had jumped down from his perch on the tree branch. Hiei turned his head to watch the mass of thick red hair move toward the potter’s cart. Kurama’s long skirt trailed behind him, catching on leaves and twigs.

* * *

Kurama stumbled out onto the road right in front of the potter’s cart. He heard the driver cry out as he tripped and fell right in front of the horse’s hooves. One of them crashed down right next to his hand.

Kurama swallowed a gasp. Maybe he’d miscalculated slightly. He hadn’t intended to get that close. But it would work in his favour anyway.

“Hey!”

Kurama got to his feet, taking longer than necessary. He stared with wide eyes at the driver of the cart, who was jumping down from his seat.

“Hey, are you all right? You scared the shit out of me!”

The man had black hair cut short beneath his hat. His eyes were a warm chestnut brown. He held one tanned hand out toward Kurama before uncertainly retracting it as Kurama brushed dazedly at the fabric of his skirt. It was now covered in dirt.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kurama stammered out. “My horse threw me. I-I didn’t think I’d find anyone along this road… I thought you might be a bandit but…”

Kurama brushed his hand through his unruly red hair, further dishevelling it.

“Oh, jeez, I’m not a bandit. I’m, ah—” The man glanced over his shoulder back at the cart. “I sell pottery,” he said. “Yeah, that’s right…”

That was… an odd way of saying it. But Kurama decided not to let on that he’d noticed. It didn’t really matter what the man was doing out here anyway. All he needed was a ride into town.

“I’m so relieved to hear that,” Kurama said. “Would you be heading to Nottingham by any chance?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “That’s my next stop.” He paused uncertainly. “You need a ride?” he asked.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Kurama admitted. “I don’t know where my horse ran off to.”

The man attempted to gallantly help Kurama up onto the driver’s seat beside him but there wasn’t much room. Kurama found himself pressed tightly to the man’s side as he shook the reins and the horse began to plod along once more.

Kurama glanced up into the trees lining the path, searching for a glimpse of red eyes. But there was no sign of Hiei. Kurama was sure that he was watching them, though. He felt an urge to smirk, but he kept his face neutral. There would be time for gloating later.

“So, ah, what’s your name?” the man asked.

“It’s Kurama,” the redhead said, giving him an awkward smile.

“I’m Yusuke,” the man offered.

Kurama looked down shyly. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“So, what were you doing out here alone anyway?” Yusuke asked. “Didn’t you say there were bandits…?”

Kurama felt a flash of panic. That was the one snag in his plan. Usually, his ‘rescuers’ were so focused on his appearance that they never questioned his story. They were more interested in showering him with flattery barely concealed by concern for his wellbeing.

But this Yusuke was certainly not bewitched by Kurama’s appearance, though he was decent enough to help out someone he thought was a lady in distress.

Kurama decided to go with the simplest explanation. “I shouldn’t have been out here,” he admitted humbly. “But I was looking for a herb that only grows in this forest. I couldn’t afford to buy it from the market.”

Yusuke just nodded, indicating that he found the answer acceptable on one level at least. Kurama turned his eyes back to the road. The surface was smoothing out as they approached the city. As the gates came into view, Kurama felt a flutter of nervousness.

But the guards barely glanced at either driver or passenger as they allowed them through. Yusuke brought the horse to a stop on the side of the wide road.

“Are you okay from here?” he asked. “I’m heading that way…” He pointed toward the market.

“Thank you. My home is near here,” Kurama told him. He scrambled down from the seat, silently cursing the loose fabric of his skirt that threatened to tangle his legs up. How did women put up with dresses? They were so impractical.

“Hey, you!”

Kurama had turned to face the man to thank him for his assistance once again but froze at the sound of the shout.

No way. What terrible luck.

Resigned, he turned to face the shout. A brown-haired man was striding toward them, his cheeks red as he pointed one finger at them.

“You! I know you! You little thief!”

To Kurama’s surprise, he heard a laugh from behind him. He turned to see the driver jump down from the seat of the cart.

“Hey, sheriff,” he said breezily.

“You’re under arrest!” Sheriff Koenma barked. Behind him, Kurama could see the sheriff’s men approaching, their eyes wary and guarded.

“Not likely.”

Kurama watched, his alarm turning to bemusement as the black-haired man darted out into the street. The sheriff’s men took off after him like hounds after a fox. Kurama had to fight hard to maintain his confused expression. He wanted to laugh out loud instead.

“Miss, are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Kurama turned back to the sheriff, his eyes wide with innocent surprise.

“No,” he said. “Not at all.”

“That man is a thief,” Sheriff Koenma said, straightening as he addressed Kurama. “I don’t know what he told you, but you should avoid him, miss. I’ll escort you home.”

Kurama studied the man before him with one red eyebrow raised. “Oh, no, that isn’t necessary,” he demurred. “My house is not far.”

“I insist,” Koenma said, puffing his chest out in a self-important way. “A lady shouldn’t be walking home on her own with such disreputable criminals running loose.” His handsome face hosted a charming smile.

Kurama inwardly shuddered at the sight. He was left with no response to that. He could barely hold his laughter (or his mortification) in.

Sheriff Koenma ought to have recognised Kurama as the thief that haunted Sherwood Forest. But, instead of arresting the thief right under his nose, he was caught up with the other, the man named Yusuke. Too caught up to realise who Kurama was. Did a dress really make that much of a difference to his appearance?

Sheriff Koenma personally escorted Kurama to his destination, a small, well-kept home in the less well-off part of the city.

Kurama was met at the door by a black-haired woman who greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Kurama thanked the sheriff and slipped inside the house, gently brushing aside the woman’s concern.

Once the sheriff was safely gone, Kurama reached inside the bosom of his dress and drew out a small cloth bag tied with string. He pressed it into his mother’s hands.

“Shuichi, darling, you don’t have to…”

His mother tried to push it back into his own hands but Kurama stepped back, raising them to ward her off.

“No, mother,” he said. “You need it.”

One look at the woman’s appearance showed that he spoke the truth. She was very pale and thin. Her hands shook with tremors as they gripped the small bag.

The coins in that bag would pay for his mother’s medicine. She was so unwell that she couldn’t work. Without her son’s help, she would not even be able to afford food.

Kurama spent the night with her, using the time to tidy the house and perform the chores that had been too much for his mother to handle. In the morning, he donned a fresh dress and kissed her goodbye.

He ignored her usual pleas for him to stay. He promised that he would return as soon as he could with more money for her. Then he left.

If the man from yesterday had escaped the sheriff’s clutches, Kurama saw no sign of him. He wondered idly what had happened to the potter’s cart as he walked down the street where it had been left. It wasn’t there now. He suspected that the sheriff’s men had taken it. They would probably sell it and split the profits between themselves.

Kurama plodded through the forest’s undergrowth with his skirt hiked up. Instead of shoes, he wore boots, which were much more practical for rough terrain.

When he reached the small site that was their current base, he found Hiei lounging against the trunk of a tree, diligently sharpening his knife. The sound made Kurama wince.

“How did it go?” Hiei asked, the bland tone in his voice masking his curiosity.

Kurama sighed and settled himself on a nearby log. He had a feeling that his story would be met with vindictive amusement from Hiei.

He was right. He resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands as the rare sound of Hiei’s laughter echoed around the clearing.

“It’s not funny,” Kurama said determinedly.

“Yes, it is,” Hiei told him, straightening into a sitting position. His knife rested on the ground beside him, forgotten for the moment. “You couldn’t enter into the city alone dressed as yourself because the sheriff would recognise you as a thief. So you disguised yourself and entered with someone else.”

“Yes,” Kurama said, his voice tight with irritation. He felt that a reiteration of facts they were both well aware of was unnecessary.

“But the person you went with was a thief as well!” Hiei said, a broad smile spreading across his face. “And the sheriff thought that you were actually a woman and escorted you home!”

His crimson eyes danced with glee.

“All right,” Kurama bit out, crossing his arms.

“Did he make a marriage proposal as well?” Hiei asked, unconcerned by Kurama’s growing displeasure.

“No,” Kurama said icily. “But he did make… advances.”

Advances that were a little too blatant for Kurama’s comfort. No actual marriage proposal had come out of the pompous sheriff’s mouth but he’d certainly hinted at the possibility.

Hiei’s face suddenly sobered, his amusement fading. “You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” he asked.

Kurama nodded, his expression resigned. His options for getting into the city undetected were limited, but he couldn’t abandon his mother, no matter how humiliating this experience had been.

“You must love her a lot,” Hiei said quietly.

Kurama didn’t bother responding. The answer was obvious. His mother’s illness was the whole reason he’d started stealing. It had been the only way they could afford to live.

Hiei was an orphan who had done Kurama a favour. He’d helped Kurama escape from the sheriff once. The little man had been a trusted ally ever since.

Hiei returned to sharpening his knife while Kurama began to build up the fire. His mind was already plotting their next heist.


End file.
